Gin watched Christophe finally disappear back into the safety of his room through the powerful scope of his sniper rifle; he relaxed his grip on the deadly weapon and began swiftly disassembling his gun, placing the pieces into the lead lined metal case that rested at his feet.
When he had swung down from Christophe's balcony onto the one just below it he had been uncertain of the heir's actions. Not knowing whether the young man would send his guard to find him or remain where he was Gin had hastily made his way to the vantage point he had selected the day before. Wanting nothing more to retrieve his gun slip down the fire escape and become a shadow of a memory. His room was already abandoned, the virus sent to destroy the digital images of him had been enacted and according to the hotels records he had never been there.
But before he had been able to put away his gun he could not resist a glance though the scope. To his surprise Christophe was still there, looking thoughtful and slightly frightened.
'You should be,'
Gin had silently mused to himself,
'The wolves have already breeched your gate, one walks beside you and you don't know it,'
Gin had wished that he could have told Christophe more about who had sent him but just as with all his clients he had been summoned by a faceless entity more than eager to pay his fee and ordering him to kill. Now that Christophe was aware that someone wanted him assassinated he would be more aware and cautious of his actions. This would make him harder to kill, and it would buy him some precious time to find the one who wanted him dead.
"Welcome to the world of the business elite,"
Something Wuncler had said after a successful contract had been carried out against another youth from a powerful family. It was past the time that Christophe was introduced to the vicious circle of blood and death that encompassed all his associates. He needed to know he wasn't immune to the power struggle and that he would have to fight to keep the place that had been given to him on a blood stained silver platter.
Gripping his suitcase Gin made his way to the edge of the building to the metal stairs that spiraled down to the icy street. The gun case hardly hindering him he made it to the alleyway in little time. He stayed hidden in the shadows alert and silently counting down from sixty as he waited for a group of people to walk by then stepped out amongst them onto the sidewalk. His movement was so sooth and unobtrusive no one ever noticed him. As he walked, easily side stepping pedestrians, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out his cell phone. It was a customized device new age, sleek and sensitive to his fingerprints.
He entered the code for his bank account and checked the balance making sure that he would have the small satisfaction of cheating his last client out of a quarter of a million dollars. After securing a few more hidden funds he had stashed away over the years he transferred all the money to an untraceable account. One that he set up on a whim when he had began living with Ed just in case they needed a lot of money quickly if Ed's accounts failed. After that it only took a few more keystrokes to permanently close his ICA account.
He planned staying here for one more night then escaping back to New Orleans, his old home, the place of his childhood. He would stay there for a few months hidden away in the one of the time forgotten plantations until the Executioners he was certain would be sent after him turned their attention to some other rouge assassin. Then from there he would be able to make his way to Rome and to the sanctuary of hitmen that had forsaken their houses. If he managed to make it there alive he would be free of this, liberated from the horror that he had constructed around himself, which he had been blind to until he had lost Ed.
He had found the inn by accident, the first time he had completely driven past it the sign that marked it as something more than a private residence was partially hidden behind a thick curtain of winter ivy. He had only caught sight of it in his rearview mirror as he had sped past seeing only the word 'Inn' in the twilight gloom of evening. Realizing what it was he had turned the car around so quickly he had almost skidded into the ditch. As he re-approached the sign he could just make out the words printed above the title that marked the building as a hotel. The Kingforage Inn. He idled in the gravel driveway for a moment appraising the structure with the critical eye only a hitman possessed.
It had been an old dormitory building recently refurbished to give it the soft brushed look of an English bed and breakfast. It was charming, but what drew Gin to it more than anything was its total lack of modern security technology it was also obscure enough that from a casual glance looked like nothing more than a well-kept estate. After a moment Gin killed the engine and headlights and stepped out of the car. He ran his hands underneath the ivy his fingers brushing over the hooks that secured the sign to q chain dangling from the branch and lifted the sign free from its hooks. He stowed the wooden plaque against the opposite side of the tree where it could easily be seen and re-hung in the morning.
This done he went back to his car and parked it around the back of the building. Again he was embraced by the cold as he swept up the steps to the porch silently appreciating the elegant grandeur of the building. The length of the wrap around porch was alight with the gentle of glow of gaslights cast in bronze. Draped across their gentle curving arms were lengths of garland and holly. The scent of these fresh cut sprigs of laurel mixed with the smell of a dusty age long past. From the windows he glimpse a sitting room arranged with antique Elizabethan style furniture that gleamed with a fresh coat of oil. The walls festooned with oil paintings from the gentle artistic Victorian era and hung with elegant tapestries woven into the images of long forgotten Dukes and Duchesses. A fire twinkled in the fireplace shedding light on bookcases heavy with tomes. This would be a welcome change from the extravagance of the hotel he had just fled.
Carine glanced up from her book as she heard the immense doors of the foria swing open. Standing against the winter swept night was man so handsome she at first thought her eyes were playing a cruel trick on her. She blinked thinking that the apparition would disappear, he didn't. All he did was close the oaken doors and begin pulling his leather gloves off and loosening his scarf.
He was dressed regally in black slacks and leather boots that were emblazed with simple silver buckles. Over the flare of a white shirt he wore a trench coat that was charcoal gray that heightened the brilliance of his eyes dying them to a shimmering sapphire hue. Silver buttons lined the edges and cuffs of his coat. His features were stern and crisp. She could easily imagine him in armor, a sheathed sword at his side, proudly bearing the title of a knight. He glanced her way and smiled, stealing the breath from her lungs.
He moved toward her with a vulpine grace that edged on being deadly. His voice was low and calm belying a sense of latent power.
"I was curious if there were any rooms available…preferably something with the view of the courtyard,"
The accent was difficult to place certainly not from England but over seas, the Deep South, Louisiana maybe? It took her a few moments to realize she was still staring, awe struck at the vision before her. She felt a blush creep across her cheeks and stammered a reply.
"Y-yes we have rooms towards the back, forgive me I was just….," she faltered to halt then took a deep breath.
"You startled me is all, we don't get visitors so late in the season,"
That charming grin didn't fade, nor did the fire that it kindled in her heart.
"Such a shame this is really a beautiful place, I was admiring it through the windows as I made my way around the front…the room?"
"Yes of course there is one on the second floor that over looks the court I am afraid it's been to cold to enjoy as of late,"
"Hhmm well there are other views that are just as enjoyable,"
Another, more furious blush crept across her features but she managed a shy smile. He paid for the room in cash, and signed under the name Dr. Sassinas*. He carefully turned down the offers for a late dinner, and for having his bags carried to his room. He could manage perfectly well and was looking forward to breakfast in the morning. He bid Carine a gentlemanly goodnight, thanked her and went to retrieve his bags.
Gin had parked the rental car further behind the building, away from prying eyes and angled the vehicle for an easy get away if someone managed to find him. After he returned he had locked the door and tied off the knob with a length of fiber wire, which would make it difficult to open under physical force or gunfire.
He now surveyed the rest of the room, a window facing the outside was to his right, curtained in white gauze and heavy drapes to ward off the sun. A four-poster antique bed with matching side tables was pushed against the wall diagonal to the window. Its bedspread a deep crimson satin lined with coils of thick thread. A small desk, compete with lamp and a scattering of pens was wedged into one corner. Paintings of English forests and men sitting astride horses, their eyes wild with the thrill of the hunt galloped down woodland trails in pursuit of their quarry. It had a certain British charm that Gin found appealing; he often got incredibly bored with the manufactured look of the some of the high-end hotels he frequented.
Connected to the bedroom, almost as though it were an afterthought, was a small bathroom, its floor and walls recently remodeled with slabs of sable colored tile. Its design was simple, a chestnut cabinet hung over the toilet next to the sink, which was fashioned to resemble the eighteenth century washing bowls that young women had in their bedrooms, and a shower unashamedly encased with glass doors was to the right. With the shower was a window covered over with a waterproof blind.
Gin stepped into the shower and lifted the curtain surprised to see that the glass on the other side was clean and he was overlooking the small courtyard. He leaned back and glanced at the sill noticing that it was almost lost under layers of paint. The window probably had not been opened since it had been used as dormitory to house the eager migrant workers that had sought their riches in the newly discovered land of the States. Placing his hands beneath the sill he braced his feet and tried to open the small fenestrate. The wood groaned in protest and for a moment offered some resistance then gave away in a shower of paint and dust. Coughing Gin stuck his head out and drew in a deep breath of frigid air.
The drop from the window wasn't too high; there was even a small ledge half way down that he could step onto before he reached the wall of hedges that lined the wall. From there he could make it to his car, the perfect escape route. Leaving the window partially open he made his way back to the main room.
Resting his back against the wall he sank down to the floor took out his phone and pried off the back. Among all the glistening silicon micro chips he placed a small device of his own, something he had purchased from the technological black market from a Phreaker that would erase he recent activity and scramble the tracking signal. It would take a few hours for it to fully engage but ICA would not know of his desertion until the next morning when he was supposed to call in and confirm his hit and by then it would be too late. He slipped the cover back on his phone and put it back in his pocket.
He then eased down for a fitful night of sleep on the floor with the bed between him and the door. He lay there his heart beating heavily against his chest, feeling the blood thrumming thoughout his body like an electric current. It wasn't regret or even fear that stole upon him but rather an intense sense of freedom. For the first time since he was seventeen he wasn't living under the orders of someone else, balanced on the edge of a blade waiting for instructions to come trickling down from his Patron, the feeling was almost euphoric.
But as always these thoughts strayed to Ed. Gin swallowed feeling the treachery of what he had done seize him in its jaws. He drew in a tumultuous breath and let it take him.
The first time they had truly kissed not as friends but as lovers had been in a hotel similar to Kingforage. It was an inn tucked away from the hustle of England, a former manor set in the fog-shrouded headlands; bearing the whimsical name of Pendragon. Gin remembered Wuncler Sr. had accompanied them but his memory was a vague specter. He had been to shamefully captivated by seeing his friend in civilian cloths. The image of the redhead dressed normally was stirring to the blood. The heir had his rapt attention the entire drive to the inn, and it was all Gin could do to not stare like a love struck moron.
The room they shared had been lavish, regaled in velvets, silk, and marble all set in dark seductive hues and tones. When they had arrived, a dusting of snow clinging to their jackets and hair, a fire had already been kindled in the hearth. Gin had casually tossed his leather duster over the back of a cathedral chair. He turned automatically helping the heir out of his own garment with all the care of an attentive servant. As he slipped the expensive coat from Ed's broad shoulders, he resisted the urge to press his nose to the back of the red heads neck and breath in his scent, or to wrap his arms around Ed's slender waist and hold him against his body to revel in his strength and warmth. Instead he reached up and brushed the last glimmering gems of snow from Ed's fiery hair.
His brother in arms murmured a gentle word of thanks and slightly turned to Gin his green eyes a dark malachite color, dancing with playful shadows and graced him with a half grin.
'So what you think mah man you like it,'
Gin returned the smile keeping his gaze steady on Ed's face,
'Yea s'wonderful…s'perfect,'
Whether Ed was aware of the double meaning Gin wasn't certain because he turned away from him moving to stand in front of the mantle. A decanter of bourbon had been placed on a low table between two antique chairs covered with thick velvet. Gin stared at his silhouette a moment admiring Ed's lithe figure.
'Thank you f'comin up here wit me, I'h woulda been bored outta mah fuckin head avin tah deal wit all des rich bitches,'
He ran his hand from the back of his neck up through his hair the movement causing water to flick from the short-cropped strands. It was a gesture that Gin recognized Ed did on the very rare occasions when he was shy or embarrassed.
'S'no problem Ed…,'
They chose to sit before the fire on the expanse of Turkish rug their backs pressed against the plush chairs the etched bottle of bourbon resting between them. It was one of the few times Ed ever talked about his parents, about his life before they had perished. He told Gin wonderful stories about them, of his adoration he had for his late father and the intense loyal love he still had for his mother. There were tears with these words, but not of grief or sorrow. They were tears of warm joy and the light happiness that is only experienced in childhood and dwelled upon with fond affection.
Gin had wished, with his immortal, scarred soul that could have had the honor of meeting Ed parent's, wished he could have looked into the eyes of those who had bestowed him the gift of their son. The night wore on and the bourbon steadily lulled them both into a tranquil state. Gin becoming more captivated as the harsh tones in Ed's voice fell away leaving behind a New England accent with a touch of a British tone on the vowels.
In the gloom and glowering flicker of the firelight and in darkest hours of the night they lapsed into a companionable silence. Gin felt sleep hastened by the beckoning fingers of bourbon settle on his shoulders. He felt the redhead stir against his side, and then Ed was kissing him, fiercely and without regard. His fingers digging into Gin's hair with an unrelenting force holding the others head still so that the blond could not draw back. At first Gin was too stunned to move, or even think clearly. All he could focus on was the mouth moving against his and how the red head had somehow managed to straddle his hips so that he was sitting in Gin's lap. The blond remembered that the heir had tasted as he had imagined. Like the golden bronze of sunlight after a howling tempest, wild and free. After a few heated moments the heir drew back panting licking his lips of Gin's taste. He murmured a soft apology
'I'm sorry…I thought…maybe f'I kissed you…what I was feeling would go away,"
Gin remained where he was, Ed's words hardly registering somehow cutting though the lust that curled like a thick fog though his brain. Instead of replying he leaned forward and softly brushed his lips against Ed's.
'Jus one more…once more an I'll stop,"
He felt Ed nod and shift to lean all his weight in Gin's lap and the blond gasped his hips arching up of their own accord his arms winding around Ed's waist. That night didn't end with one kiss but spun on in the fading light of the fire. Two lovers draped in darkness sipping laugher and pleasure from each other, and finally falling asleep in a tangle of limbs on the floor.
